


Phantom Pains

by OccasionalArtist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Phantom Limbs, set during s2 so spoilers for anyone who might not have watched yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OccasionalArtist/pseuds/OccasionalArtist
Summary: Shiro wakes to pain he shouldn't have, in a limb that no longer exists.  And then, like he always does, Keith is there to find him and to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is my first dip into writing Sheith! As such, I'm still not 100% confident about the way I'm writing these kids, but hopefully you enjoy.

Shiro woke in the middle of the night in pain.  As the memories of his time with the Galra had begun to come back, he knew that this was not an uncommon occurrence over the past year, nor was it the worst pain he had experienced.  But it was strange; somehow, he had pain in his right forearm, his arm which no longer existed.

He laid his other hand over it, the cool metal under his fingertips the only sensation that greeted him.  There was no corresponding feeling in the arm, and no change in the dull ache.

In the near-complete darkness of the room, he couldn’t tell what time of night it was.  He couldn’t see the points where flesh and machine connected, where he willingly reached out to touch.  His sense of self blurred between real and unreal, fake pains and darkness and half-memories, until his body tensed with the need to move.  Shiro practically launched himself from the bed and across to the door, scrambling for the latch in the dark with his left hand, because he would never be able to find it with his right.

The light, as it flooded in, was grounding.  He looked down his body with a gaze which was not entirely stable.  Everything was as he expected it to be, down to the loose sleep pants and bare feet cold on the metal floor.  A quick glance behind him told him that everything was normal in the room as well, aside from the sheets thrown back in a tangle.  He couldn’t bring himself to care about military regulations on neat beds at the moment, though.

Instead, Shiro stepped out into the corridor, and listened to the door to his room slide shut again.  Out here, he found it easier to take a few deep breaths, and to realize that he could have just turned on the light in his room and seen that everything was fine that way.  He didn’t want to try to go back to sleep just yet, though, and his non-existent arm still ached.  His feet turned him down the hall, and then down another, and he let himself concentrate instead on the expanding and contracting of muscles as he walked.

Eventually, he reached one of the several observation rooms scattered about the Castle of Lions.  The view out the large plate windows was, by all rights, magnificent.  Worlds and galaxies slowly tumbled past out there as they lumbered through the sky.  At this point, it was nothing new to Shiro, and he elected to slump onto one of the long couches there, and stare instead at the paradox that was his arm.

Some time passed, Shiro was not sure how much, before he thought he heard another voice saying his name.  Then again, but this time, it said, “Takashi.”

Still lost amongst bits of thought and confusion, he said, “It hurts,” without intending to.

“What?  What hurts?  Are you okay?” Keith came into his line of vision, hands shifting restlessly as if trying to decide where to touch or where to check him for injury.  That roused Shiro from his fog, and he sat straighter, trying to school his posture to project assurance and calm.

“I’m fine,” he reassured, and then added with a frown, “It’s not real pain.”

“Not real pain?”

“This,” he said, and tapped the metallic forearm.  It shone dully in the lights of the deck, another reminder of its falsehood.

Keith draped himself into the seat next to Shiro, one leg bent so he could turn and face him.  He took the arm in both of his hands, one at the elbow and the other gently lifting at the palm.  Shiro took this opportunity to slide their fingers together, which made Keith wrinkle the top of his nose.  Adorable.

“Sounds like a phantom limb thing.  There are a lot of accounts of people who –” he hesitated.  It wasn’t something any of them said aloud much. “– who have lost limbs, sometimes feeling like it’s still there.  As if it’s moving, or cramping, or painful.”

“You know a lot about this.”

The tops of Keith’s cheeks colored with the lightest bit of pink, and his eyes shifted away.  “I did some looking in the databases.  They were all Altean, but I feel like I’d read the term at least once before back on Earth.”  His eyes shifted back to Shiro’s arm, thoughts swimming in them.  Then he moved his hands up to his bicep, where skin ended and metal began, and began pressing his fingers into the muscle.

It felt nice, to have Keith massaging out knots that Shiro didn’t even know he had.  He supposed it made sense though – the connection of nerve and muscle and machine was not something the human body was accustomed to dealing with.  There would be some extra strain.  He leaned into the touch, his eyes slipping closed and a heavy sigh flowing from his nose.

This drew a low laugh from Keith.  He stroked his hands gently from the crest of Shiro’s shoulder down to the top of the prosthetic one more time, and then drew them away.  “Did that help?”

When Shiro opened his eyes again, Keith was looking at him hopefully.  “It felt great,” he replied, “but the phantom pain is still there.”

Keith frowned, but did not look entirely discouraged.  “Some of the accounts said that putting on a prosthetic helped.  But yours is permanent.  I have an idea, just don’t freak out, okay?”

“Of course not, I trust you, baby.”

The nickname always made Keith a bit flustered, but his mouth twitched into a tiny, soft smile anyway.  He turned his focus back to whatever idea he had, lifting Shiro’s hand and pressed their palms flat together.  He took a deep breath, and muttered something which sounded like “focus.” 

Shiro’s arm lit up in magenta lines as it activated, and the pain disappeared.  He wasn’t sure if it came from activating the arm, or being so thoroughly distracted and impressed that Keith could do something like that in the first place.  “That’s amazing, Keith.  How did you do it?”

Keith leaned in towards him just slightly at the praise.  He had always struck Shiro as a plant turning toward the sun at any hint of kind words, and he was more than happy to provide.  Although, his eyes flitted away again before he answered.  “Galra.”  He was gaining more confidence, especially as they worked more with the Blade of Marmora, that his ancestry didn’t immediately make him a monster.  And while his natural defiance bolstered that confidence in defense of himself to Allura, he still had his flashes of uncertainty.

“Well, it worked,” Shiro said, and willed the arm to go dark and dormant again before he wrapped it around Keith’s shoulders and drew him in close so their sides were pressed together.  Keith leaned into the touch, even as he pulled his feet up onto the couch and held his knees close.

“Has that kind of pain ever happened before?”

“No, this was the first time.”

“It could be the stress.”

Shiro hummed in acknowledgement.  It made sense; they were in the midst of trying to prepare for what they hoped would be a final strike against Zarkon.  It was a lot of stress, on all of them.  Keith was probably feeling it too, and it hung between them, heavy and unspoken.  But neither of them seemed to want to voice it, not right now, in this strange stolen moment.  Shiro rubbed his thumb up and down Keith’s arm, hoping that the small affectionate touch would be a comfort.  “How did you even know that I was out here?” he asked, instead.

“You know I sleep light, and you don’t walk particularly quiet.”  Keith’s mouth turned up just a bit in light of teasing, but then his face morphed into something both sad and hopeful, “Besides, I always find you.”  Then he turned his face toward the window, silent as he watched the stars go by.  Shiro followed his gaze and watched too, willing to wait for whatever thoughts would come next. 

“We’re a long way from home,” Keith finally said.

It was true.  When was the last time he saw a single constellation, as single star he knew?  Shiro wasn’t sure.  But when he turned from the window to look at Keith, who still had his attention fixed outside, it wasn’t so different from the nights they would spend on the roof of the Garrison, dreaming of the day when they would make it out there.  “It’s where we always wanted to be, though.  Minus the intergalactic war,” he replied, and then paused.  “Besides, it doesn’t feel nearly so far like this.”  He tightened his arm around Keith’s shoulder to emphasize what he meant.

“I can’t believe you just said that.  That has to be the cheesiest line ever.”  There was disbelief in Keith’s voice, and just a bit of laughter.  But when he uncurled and turned to face him, his eyes were much gentler.  He reached out the hand which was not sandwiched between them to touch the side of Shiro’s face and guide them together for a kiss.

Keith usually kissed with as much fire, energy and that hint of defiance that made up his personality, and Shiro loved it.  But he could remember every time Keith had kissed him like this – slow and soft, trying to speak all of the comfort and reassurances that everything would be okay when he didn’t have the words.  The first had been when he was about to leave for Kerberos, then the day he somehow made it back, tucked behind the shack and away from prying eyes, and once more after saving Shiro in the black lion when they were stranded.  Keith had been too wary and heartsick to kiss him like that after their confrontation with the Blade of Marmora, and so Shiro had kissed him instead.  And now, with the next big fight looming on the horizon, Keith was kissing him as if they had all the time in the world for love and tenderness.

It made it easier to believe.  Shiro’s shoulders relaxed just slightly out of their ridged military posture as the lines of tightness in them unwound.  He used the arm still around Keith’s shoulder to draw him in closer, and deepened the kiss with his own hopes.  In the way that Keith parted his lips and sighed, Shiro could tell that he was letting go of some of his own tension, too.

They moved apart slowly, with little lingering pecks at the corners of lips and the sides of noses bringing them back for moment after moment, but finally Keith sat back.  His cheeks were dusted just slightly pink.  “We should go back to bed,” he said.  “Knowing you, you’ll still be up at regulation time despite being awake now.”

Shiro nodded, and stood.  As soon as Keith stood, he drew him right back to his side.  “Would you come back with me?”

“Well, if you insist,” he replied, and then laced his fingers with Shiro’s prosthetic.  He still couldn’t feel the touch there, but he could feel the warmth of Keith next to him, and that was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Written at least in part because I am a psych nerd and phantom limb pain is an actual psychological/medical phenomenon. Also because there's very little discussion in the show about the fact that for all his fancy Galra prosthetic, Shiro is technically disabled. And disabled characters who are the heroes and do awesome things are important.


End file.
